


Sweet, Suffocating

by CombatantMilk



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, No spoilers??, Set sometime after season finale, The Doctor's leather chair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-24 13:44:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2583497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CombatantMilk/pseuds/CombatantMilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is what they always did after he saved the day. They would do this to the end of the universe and back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet, Suffocating

“Oh my dear, dear Doctor…” Her words ghost over his skin followed each by the lightest of kisses on his cheek, his nose, his lips. Missy is everywhere, suffocating, all big ruffled skirt in his lap and sharp nails in his hair. The Doctor wants to pull away and run like he always does, run as fast and as far as he can without a single glance behind him. He wants to crash against her and never be apart. He is blocked in between her and his leather chair. Claustrophobic. Comforting.

“You’re so fragile this time.” Missy licks her lips as she takes in his wiry frame. He was strong, yes, but thinner than ever, breakable. “Why, I could almost crack you apart and put you together however I wanted, couldn’t I? Would you like that Doctor?” she hummed. Her hands trail over his chest, fingers plucking at the buttons of his shirt.

He thinks for a moment of his coat. Had he misplaced it? The heat of Missy’s hand cupping his cheek reminds him. He had left it, had covered Clara with it to comfort her after the day was saved. Because of course he had saved the day but he couldn’t save the soldier for her. He had left Clara home, safe, to grieve with her family. She had all but sent him away anyway.

And he had run right to Missy. This is what they did wasn’t it? He saved the day, he stopped her plan, his plan, it never mattered which it was, and then in the aftermath they were swept up in each other. The Doctor hated it. He craved it. The last time there had been no moment after. She had been gone. He had regenerated. They had to make up for lost time.

“Ah!” He hisses at an almost savage raking of her nails over his bare chest. “Play nice now.” A hollow chastisement.

“Now Doctor,” she tuts, “you’re the one who isn’t playing nice! You weren’t even listening to me.” She knocks against his temple. “What could possibly be more interesting than me?” His hands have moved while she talks, from gripping her thighs and rucking up her skirt to unbuttoning her shirt and grasping at her skin. He is freezing and she is burning. She leans into him with an appreciative hum. When she kisses him now it is everything the last ones weren’t, devouring and rough. He has almost divested her of undergarments, extravagant and over the top as he expected, when she bites his lip hard. She clicks her tongue disapprovingly and wipes blood from her lips as he swears.

“I asked you a question, Doctor.” Stern voice and shirtless. He never stood a chance. It helped that her hands finally reached his belt. He would have told her anything.

“You stopped them.” His lips brush her neck as he lifts his hips to aid in removing his trousers and pants. “You saved the Earth, you saved me.” Missy rolls her eyes and looks away, disinterested. He gives a reproachful bite. “You could at least pretend to look interested while taking out my cock, you know.”

“You could pretend to be more interesting,” she huffs while maneuvering her skirt out of the way.

“How’s this for interesting?” he asks as he slides himself against her folds, pulling a groan from each of them. He repeats the motion a few times until the press of her hips against his and the scrape of her nails on his scalp are too much. Finally he grasps the base and positions himself before sliding into her with a moan that is muffled in her breasts. Missy starts moving immediately and the rhythm is perfect, familiar, the way it’s been every time. The way it’s been since the first time.

They don’t speak then for a while, reduced only to the sounds of her moving above him. Periodically she bites him or pulls her nails over his chest, his back and he would burn up the universe for this. The Doctor feels a need building low in his stomach and his head falls back with a groan.

“Tell me…” he pants as his nimble fingers find her clit, “tell me about Gallifrey.”

“You want to do this now?” She grinds against his fingers.

“Tell me.”

“It was, ah, it was Gallifrey…gods do that again.” He complies and she moans into his hair. “It was boring. It’s always boring when you’re not there.” Missy’s hips thrust harder against him and he is so, so close.

“There must have been someone for you to torment, surely.” The look she gives him make the hair on the back of his neck rise.

“Do shut up, Doctor.”

They move frantically now. He knows how to finish this, what he always has to do. She asks often, demanding it of him. But she has never had to ask. He gives it willingly, ghosting his words against her cheek.

“Mistress….”

With a gasp she falls over the edge and he falls with her. They crash and burn and consume everything in between. It takes several moments for them to completely come down. He has a strong ringing in his ears that slowly fades to the background.

Missy slides off of him and stands with a flourish and he can feel a sick weight in the pit of his stomach. He is homesick. Then she straightens her skirt and slips back into his lap with a contented sigh.

Her forehead presses against his. She thinks of Gallifrey.

He is home.


End file.
